Chimes
by liarlikeme
Summary: I couldn't remember any of my memories, or even people. I could remember the name of the Aztec Emperor, but not my Aunt Emily. It was so scary and confusing waking up to those people, not knowing who they were...
1. Prologue Amnesia

**Prologue  
"Amnesia"**

Since I was about ten, I was involved in competitive swimming competitions. As a result of this, an unfortunate event happened. This time was the time that I not only lost, but underestimated my stroke count at the same time that my goggles' strap broke. I thought I had five strokes instead of three, and ran into the end of the pool, rendering myself unconscious.

I got a concussion, and a rare disease labeled as 'retrograde amnesia.' The doctors told me that I would most-likely re-gain my childhood memories in a matter of weeks, or months. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. I knew functions, how to speak, walk, write, play backgammon even. But, I couldn't, for the life of me, remember the life of me.

I couldn't remember any of my memories, or even people. I didn't know my own mother, my sister or my best friend. I could remember the name of the Aztec Emperor, but not my Aunt Emily. It was so scary and confusing waking up to those people, not knowing who they were, or who I was.

The doctors then prodded in and proceeded in to ask difficult questions like what my name was or when I was born. None of which I knew the answers to. I was so confused and tired, my head ached and my heart swam. I was still wondering who the beautiful boy was that had been holding my hand, leaving it so warm and tingly. The one thing I was curious about most was the strange boy from the hospital room with the warm hands. I had asked several times that day about him, but no one really answered me. They told me he was 'family friend.' Puzzled, I asked about his family, only to be met with another round of "um..."

He was a very attractive, wise and humorous fellow. He enjoyed children and cartoons, but could turn around and have an in-depth conversation about politics or the Revolutionary War all in one minute. His friends were those of my cousins and my Uncle's friends, he was _always_ around, and... yet he appeared to have no other friends, no girlfriend, no life. I was curious about him, but it was awkward for me at first. I didn't know this boy. Of course, he had known me for years, but I don't have the fortunate memories to prove it. He was not my friend or family, and he was certainly nothing _more_ than a friend. Whenever I would question about things that I observed he would shift his eyes and make a quick excuse and scamper off to who knows where.

I bet most people don't worry about strange things like loosing all of their personal memories. I bet I didn't ever think about it either. Otherwise I would have something like "self-remembering DVDs" with a compressed summary of things all people should know about their lives. I know it would make MY life so much easier...


	2. Waking Up

**Chapter 1**

**"Waking Up"**

**CPOV**

**Claire: Age 16**

**Location: General Hospital**

Consciousness seemed to overtake me suddenly, willing me to open my eyes. They fluttered open and I instantly jumped back at the unexpected sight. Truthfully I wasn't expecting anything at that moment, let alone what it was that I did see. A rather large, in the aspect of tall and muscular, older teenage boy was sitting relatively close to me, leaning close, muttering something to fast for me to comprehend. It took only a moment to register what I saw before I screeched out in surprise, cowering away from the boy. I was suddenly aware of the rather warm flesh entrapping my hand, and ripped my hand from his. His face instantly opened; shocked. But that was not my concern. Who was this boy? Wait... Where was I... Who was I...!?

Realization struck me, as my head spiraled into a panic. I was suddenly dizzy, my head felt heavy, swimming in a cloud of confusion, as adrenaline started rapidly pulsing through my veins.

"Who am I!?" I screeched, voice cracking, as I attempted to sit up. My head whirled, nearly landing me back onto the pillow, before I felt something strong grasp my shoulders. I blinked several times, trying to adjust my blurry vision. It cleared, allowing me to focus in on the strange boy, still looking utterly worried, hovering over me- gripping my shoulders. My heart leapt and I shook my head, shaking his hands off.

Suddenly realizing he was speaking to me- I cut him off with the first question that surfaced out of the whirlwind of confusion spinning in my head. As the question spilled out of my mouth I watched as his hands dropped to his sides, expression switching from shocked to hurt. In one fraction of a second his entire being switched from caring and worried, to pained; utterly pained.

"Its me." He pleaded with me, as if that dry statement made it blatantly obvious. I simply shook my head, uncomprehending. There were a million questions flying through my mind, so fast that it started to throb. Yet, I couldn't seem to utter another word for fear that I may cause the mystery boy more pain. My heart wrenched as his fists clamped shut at his sides, slowly starting to shake, and his mouth opened, remorse filling his beautiful features, as he tried to desperately to get me to understand. I didn't understand. How had I done so much damage by offering a simple question?

Suddenly, the shaking of his hands increased, quickly spreading though his arms and down his spine. He started vibrating; shaking and twitching uncontrollably. I opened my mouth to speak when his eyes met mine. He gave me a pleading look, lasting only a second. Then, before I could utter one single more word- He was gone.


	3. Retro What?

**Chapter 2  
"Retro What?"**

"Claire?"

My head instantly shot in the direction of the doorway, where the unfamiliar voice had come from. Claire. My brain registered the fact that this name is what the boy- ...man- ...that was what the stranger had just called me, wasn't it? I should have known the voice was talking to me, but unsure, I glanced over my shoulder. Seeing only an empty chair, not another person the voice could possibly be addressing, I turned back. My eyes landed on a tall, middle aged man with a long white coat on as he started towards me. His brow was creased, and his head tilted as he looked at me, looking concerned.

"Me?" I questioned hesitantly.

"Yes, Claire." He said, as he opened the folder he was carrying, quickly glancing back up at me. "How... are you feeling?" He asked, as he grabbed me hand, flipping it over, and pressing his two cold fingers to the inside of my wrist. I instantly ripped my hand away, confused, as I watched his expression morph to match mine.

"Wh... Where am I?" I stutters, glancing around the small white room nervously, starting to panic. "How did I get here? I..." The questions in my head suddenly ceased as i tried sitting up. A stabbing pain shot through my head, and started to pulse at my temples. I groaned, clutching my head as hot, stinging tears started welling up in my eyes. They spilled over without my consent. "I... Can't remember." I realized, grimacing. "I can't remember... anything..." I managed to squeak out before sobs overtook me.

My senses barely picked up the fact that a sudden commotion started around me. Possible voices, shuffling feet, and moving. I tried to refocus and calm myself, but felt powerless to the emotions spilling out in waves. I clutched my head harder, clamping my yes shut, and tried hard to take in deep breaths and calm down. It took several minutes of concentration, but I finally got myself under control. When I finally opened my eyes, and glanced around the room- I found nothing. Confused, I glanced back towards the door, where I had seen the white coated man, and my eyes widened in surprise.

Not only did I spot him, with his back towards my room, but in front of him stood what looked like a small crowd of people. Directly in front of him was a rather tall man with darker tanned skin, very short black hair wearing an angry expression on his face. His stance explained it all. He and the man were arguing. Behind him, stood several more men. The strangest thing about it was that they all looked just alike. Not only because of their facial features or builds, but because of the other large similarities. Very tall, tan skin, dark hair, strong built, simple clothing; all with a look of impatience and anger etched in their beautiful faces.

Yet, no others uttered a single word, allowing the first man to do all of the talking. I then noticed one peculiar person. Standing at the front man's side was a woman. She looked to be about thirty, with long dark hair, tanned skin, a very out-of-place looking scar running down the length of one side of her face and neck, and, strangely enough, a serene expression on her face. The arguing man, once again started to raise his voice to the man in the white coat when, unexpectedly, the woman reached her hand up and placed it on the man's arm. Instantly, the man's voice ceased, and he glanced down to her. Without even raising her head, she simply took her other hand and pointed in my direction. In an instant, every angry face jerked over in my direction, and the white coated man spun around to face me. Caught off guard, I gasped, jerking my head away as quickly as I could to wipe my wet tears off my face. I didn't dare turn and look back to the mob, but realized I didn't need to- as I heard a pair of footsteps bounding to my bed.

"Claire?" I heard the voice of the white coated man ask, once again, as I Heard light footsteps follow in behind him. "Claire, I am Doctor Taylor, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" He asked, as I heard paper rustling. I looked up to see him fumbling with a chart once again. He looked up and gave me a small reassuring smile, pulling a pen from his coat pocket. "Please?"

I started to nod slowly when I glanced up to the foot of my bed to not only see the scarred woman and man who had been arguing with the doctor, but a dozen more similar-looking people. "Sir, I am going to have to ask you to leave while I examine my patient-" The doctor started saying, before another man cut him off.

"No thank you. We will stay," He stated, with obvious authority. The man looked very similar to the man who was arguing before, only a bit taller, stronger, and younger looking. He stood by the other side of the arguing man, with only one younger looking boy at his side; the rest, nine men and one woman, stood behind them, stiff, rigid.

"Sir-" the doctor started, looking perturbed, but the tallest one cut him off again.

"I said that we will stay." He stated, voice harder yet. The doctor glanced around at the rest of the large group. In seeing their initial expressions, he sighed, sitting back down; a look of defeat crossing his features.

After a few dozen tests, and what seemed like hundreds of questions, both I and the crowd of onlookers grew irritated. The doctor left several times, bringing back special doctors or nurses who would ask me different questions, do different tests, make me perform different simple tasks. The most awkward times were the times in-between then he would leave and come back. They never really said anything. The most communication that took place was either with the doctor, or nearly silent communication either with their heads turned, or under their breath so low I barely caught that anything took place. I tried to avoid eye contact with any of the strangers. I wasn't afraid of them, really. All of them had a rugged underlying look to them from what I sensed, but I wasn't afraid of them, per say. No, even when their eyes appeared hard or frustrated, I sensed kindness from them. I felt far from scared. Just... uncomfortable...

The doctor came back yet again, alone this time, and started to ask another question, when one of the men finally spoke up.

"We get it already!" The shorter man, looking much younger next to the tallest, stated coldly. "She can't remember, alright! Stop torturing the poor girl and tell her what's the matter, or fix it or something!" He steamed. The doctor, widened eyed and surprised, simply ran a hand through his thinning hair and sighed.

"I'm sorry, son, we just wanted to make sure..."

"Of what?" The boy cut him off, impatiently. Irritated, the doctor stood up; yet still kept a large distance from him.

"We wanted to make sure that we couldn't do anything to spark her memory." He stated, closing the large file he was now holding. "And, sadly, I'm afraid it doesn't look like we can."

"What does this mean?" The man on the other side of the tallest asked, face wrought with worry. The doctor simply sighed, glancing back to me.

"Claire, I'm afraid..." He shifted his eyes from me to his folder several times, appearing uncomfortable with having to tell me what was wrong with me. "I'm afraid that you have what we call retrograde amnesia. Do you understand?" He asked me, sadly.

"Oh! Amnesia!" The boy exclaimed, excited tone changing his voice suddenly. "So she can just hit her head again and be fine?" The boy blurted out. The boy was already sprinting out the door mumbling apologies before I could register the disapproving responses from the rest of the small mob of people. The doctor simply shook his head and the tallest man simply rose his hand and the comments ceased.

"No," the doctor sighed, looking back to me, "I'm sorry, Claire, that isn't the case. You see, amnesia is different for everyone. Different symptoms, different degrees of it. Its a very unpredictable condition." He said, sadly. "In your case, you can remember life functions, and even fact that most people can't... However, the things you seem incapable of remembering are personal memories. Childhood memories, personal details... And, I'm sorry to say," he said, turning his attention back toward the other people in the room, "People." He added, sadly.

"Will I ever remember?" I asked quietly, yearning for some sense of hope in the matter. The doctor nodded eagerly, faking a grin.

"Oh yes, Claire, there is a large possibility of that; regaining some, even all of your memories." I heard what sounded like approving buzzing whispers of the people. However, my face fell at the realization.

"So, there is a chance I never will..." I stated, sadly.

"Oh, Claire," the scarred woman said, stepping to the side of my bed by the doctor and reassuringly squeezing my hand. "Don't be so cynical, it'll be alright. We will help as best you can to remember, alright dear?" She asked sweetly. "You have plenty, if not an overabundance, of family and friends who are more than happy to try and help you remember." She said, offering me a genuine smile. "It'll be alright." She assured me. I simply nodded, thankful for her kind spirit, as I wondered who she was. Could she be my sister? My aunt? My mother, even?

"You see?" The doctor said, offering me a bit more legitimate smile. "It will be fine." He said, pulling out his pen and scribbling something down onto his pad of paper. "Now, I am just going to write you a script for some painkillers, I'm sensing that the pain from your concussion isn't just going to subside by itself. Just pick up the meds at the counter when you check out, and you are free to go home, alright?" He asked me. I simply nodded, questioning the sanity of a man who would let me go home with total strangers. But, the scarred woman seemed nice. And, as hard as their expressions seemed, they did have kind eyes, as strange as that sounded. "Alright then, I'll see you for a check-back in two weeks, sound good?" I nodded once again, and let him walk out, as I turned back towards the crowd.

The tallest man whispered something to the others and briskly turned and walked out of the room. One by one the other followed, after giving me quick glances of what appeared to be pity. The scarred woman introduced herself as my Aunt Emily, my mother's sister, and the last man to leave, she told me, was my Uncle Sam. The last to leave, the other woman, introduced herself as Leah. She put a paper sack on the edge of my bed and explained she had only thought of getting me some clothes last minute, and didn't have much time. She then kissed me on the cheek and followed the others briskly out the door. Aunt Emily made sure I was stable and independent before she left, allowing me to change on my own.

I quickly shimmied out of the tent that I was in, draping it over the uncomfortable hospital bed. I then dumped out the small wad of clothes, and, without giving them a second glance, pulled them on. I felt a bit too exposed in the spaghetti strap tank that she had given me, but thankful for the built in bra. I shrugged, tugging at the top, it was tight, but it did feel better than the aforementioned tent. I slipped on the tennis shoes and pulled up the waist of my loose pajama bottoms over my underwear band, only to have them slide down again. I shook my head, giving up, and slipped out the door. _At least she had thought to bring any clothes at all_, I thought, trying to think positive.

"Ready to go?" Emily asked me, slipping her arm around my shoulders for -just-in-case-you-need-it support. I did all I could do, and nodded, allowing the kind stranger to steer me in whatever direction, while simply hoping it was the right one.


	4. Update

**A/N**

**Sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry !**

Its been eons since I've updated on anything, I know, I know. I apologize. Honestly, its insane I know. Its just been a crazy summer so far. That should be no excuse, you're perfectly right. But! You should be happy to see that I have updated this story! _**cheers**_

Yes, I realized that I was jumping the gun, so to speak, with my ideas. No one could quite decypher what in the world I was writing. Jumping around from beginning to end, not explaining things thouroughly. Yes, I see that now. _( Thank you people who reviewed showing me so. I shall love you until the day I die. ) _

I have decided to put the chapters in a more logical order. So, if you haven't already- go back and re-read. **Thanks for your patience! **

**Love, Love, Love, Love,  
More soon!!  
-andixcore**


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